Fort George.

As the converging British drew near them, the Americans
on the Heights began to feel the ebbing of their victory.
The least disciplined soon lost confidence and began to
slink down to the boats; and very few boats returned when
once they had reached their own side safely. These slinkers
naturally made the most of the dangers they had been
expecting--a ruthless Indian massacre included. The
boatmen, nearly all civilians, began to desert. Alarming
doubts and rumours quickly spread confusion through the
massed militia, who now perceived that instead of crossing
to celebrate a triumph they would have to fight a battle.
John Lovett, who served with credit in the big American
battery, gave a graphic description of the scene: 'The
name of Indian, or the sight of the wounded, or the Devil,
or something else, petrified them. Not a regiment, not
a company, scarcely a man, would go.' Van Rensselaer went
through the disintegrating ranks and did his utmost to
revive the ardour which had been so impetuous only an
hour before. But he ordered, swore, and begged in vain.

Meanwhile the tide of resolution, hope, and coming triumph
was rising fast among the British. They were the attackers
now; they had one distinct objective; and their leaders
were men whose lives had been devoted to the art of war.
Sheaffe took his time. Arrived near Queenston, he saw
that his three guns and two hundred muskets there could
easily prevent the two thousand disorganized American
militia from crossing the river; so he wheeled to his